Nature of the Beast: Chronicles of the A'almvi
by MiniKoontzy
Summary: A look into the playful, energetic lives of a'almvi Backdraft and his Blue Moon pal Hijinks in their home city of Altihex. Cop slumber parties, graffiti, high-speed chases, stand-up comedy, and games – these are but a few of the things these Agents of Amalgamous get up to in their plentiful free time. Short, humorous (and sometimes touching) glimpses. Credit to Sid for the image!
1. Chapter 1

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Playful Pranks and Hilarious Hijinks**

* _People have loved Backdraft's personality so far ever since I gave him some time to shine in a "lull" chapter. So, I've decided the playful little goof needs some love in the form of a one-shot. :) This'll expand a little more on his recent history, but not his younger years. No fights in this one-shot_ – _just Backdraft being himself in Altihex. This'll be one of the most light-hearted, silly one-shots I've done since "Oculus Rosea" for Autobots, Assemble. I'm thinking about giving each of my characters some far more individualized time to shine, like I've done with Charity, Sen, CF, and Zodiac. Frostbite's gotten a few mentions but he hasn't gotten a one-shot or one-shot chapter to himself._

 _*Hope you enjoy! :3 Goofs galore incoming!_

* * *

 _ALTIHEX  
NORTHWEST QUADRANT  
LATE MORNING  
_

Strolling along the street semi-dancing and humming a lively, bouncy tune was a flamboyant young mech colored like a roaring fire. He seemed to be in a world of his own, but everyone he passed recieved a cheerful greeting, a friendly wave, or a combination of the two. Some laughed in return, some smiled, and some returned the greeting in good nature. Every response he got seemed to make his amber optics glow brighter. When a trio of femmes walked by he offered a casual salute and a wink, earning giggles from the smallest one and humorous glares from the taller two. He shrugged as he passed them by, smiling broadly. He heard all three laugh once they were well past him.

" _He's cute!_ " one whispered.

" _Uh,_ _Swivet_ _? You_ _realize who that was, right?_ " deadpanned another.

" _So?_ "

The third femme warned her smaller friend: " _That guy's rap sheet could probably drop all the way to the bottom of the Well. Easy. Pretty sure his tveta down there says 'I'm a trouble maker! LOL!' followed by a list of his biggest incidents._ "

The mech laughed. Well, that might be exaggerating things _a bit_ but he he chose to take it as a compliment instead of an insult. Causing merry mischief came with its own set of risks, and sometimes the cops weren't always on the same page as him. They took a bit of conversion before that happened. Cops were all about the basic rules even here in Altihex. You cause a little too much trouble for their liking and you got your butt hauled in. Oh, well. Life was life. The mech had learned to roll with the punches and turn them into something fun. In point of fact he'd never been in a police station for more than a night – and that was mostly because the officers in there were bawled over laughing by the pre-dawn hours and demanded their chief take him out before they died of hysteria. None of the precincts treated him a a crook. Because Backdraft was anything but a crook. He was more like an amiable thorn in their sides that went from thorn to best bud over the course of a dozen overnights. A few cops would even "arrest" him just so they could have his company for a while.

Personally he thought of himself as a walking comedy show for the big mech below. It had to get a bit boring for him having to watch politicians do politician stuff and some 'bots leading humdrum, everyday lives. Why not give the guy a little harmless, friendly entertainment to liven his solar cycle, eh? Even gods needed a laugh every now and again, right?

His dance slowed as he looked up on hearing the sounds of engines and other, more bestial noises. He was just in time to see a Seeker squadron called the Hexers race overhelm in a tight Altihexian Ax formation. At the head of the ax flew a great winged Felioid whose dark orange body was striped with black, bright green optics focused on the air ahead of and around it. On either "hook" of the ax flew another winged Felioid, leaner than their leader. The lead beast let out a short bark of a roar and entire team clocked ninety degrees in perfect sync. Another bark-roar and they flipped upright again. A Seeker behind the lead beast gave an order and the team split apart seamlessly, each hook pulling away. Just in time too – the squadron's maneuver let them gracefully avoid a tall spire, the lead beast flipping over the tip like a sparked acrobat. He lost sight of them after that.

Backdraft's smile broadened. ' _Gotta love the Tigerhawks. Those guys really know how to fly with style._ '

The mech's dance resumed, brighter in step than before. The song previously confined to his helm escaped through his vocalizer at last. He kind of felt bad for other city 'bots who were afraid of Predacons. They weren't anything to be afraid of. So what if they looked different or had different norms? Altihexians made a _political statement_ out of being as individual and different from each other as possible. Preds like the Tigerhawks and the nomadic Blue Moons and Sky Painters added some lively color to the city he called home. Pit, a few Tigers had even formed Trines with a couple of select Seekers – and boy had _that_ caused some turned helms and controversy from other cities. He could almost imagine (inaccurately for the sake of humor, of course) the thoughts of conservative Councilors like Contrail whenever that had happened, 'cause it still happened to this very solar cycle:

" _Whoa, bro! That's crossing the line! Preds are dangerous! They'll eat you!_ "

Meanwhile, Altihexians were sharing confused glances, shrugging and going " _What the heck is the big deal?_ "

But politics had never really been his favorite subject. Too much arguing and wirebush-beating and not enough agreements or compromises for his tastes. He was just thankful Altihex had a sensible Councilor in the form of Screwloose. More than some other cities could say. Yes, the city who had a Councilor named "Screwloose" was one of the most sensible 'bots on the Council.

He shook his helm to clear the last dregs of downer thinking. The sun was shining on a beautiful morning, the city pulsed with life all around him, and he'd just gotten out of an overnight cell. That was a _recipe_ for a good solar cycle. And he had never been one to pass up a beautiful solar cycle like this. Weather was ripe for some merry mischief. There was even a nice north wind.

He laughed. It was like the big guy (maybe his boss too) was sending him a message: " _Have fun! Make this city smile! Make it laugh! Entertain me!_ "

Alright then. But where to first? There were so many places to go to or visit on such a fine morning. The solar cycle had only just begun!

Laughing, he transformed and seamlessly melted into the oncoming traffic. A morning this beautiful demanded you avoid the indoors, and a chance to stretch his wheels after being cooped in a cell for the night was too tempting to pass up.

* * *

He drove aimlessly for a while, no real destination in mind. The bustling city center drew into the near distance.

"Hey! Backdraft! Over here!" a jovial male voice called.

His attention spun from the road ahead of him to his right. No one else seemed to have noticed the call. Normally that might be considered a little weird or disconcerting, but this had happened to him before – ever since he'd pledged himself to the Shifter in his younger cycles. That could only signal one 'bot in particular. He quickly pulled off the main road and down the alley. He switched modes. A smile bloomed on his faceplates. His amber optics burned a shade brighter.

Standing beneath a balcony, partially concealed by its shadow, was a rather ordinary looking mech a little taller than he was. Bright blue optics shone like stars, and his smile mimicked Backdraft's own. He seemed to exude an aura of friendly, laid-back playfulness. There was an energy, a power the stranger emitted. Yet he looked like some random guy you might meet walking down the street and then have trouble remembering if you were asked to remember him specifically. But no matter what form he took he couldn't hide that energy of his. He'd recognize that tingle in the air anywhere. Blindfolded.

He grinned. "Prank!"

There was no hesitation in his movements when he rushed forward and hugged the other mech. The gesture was happily returned. Being raised without a real Guardian, Prank had been the closest thing he had had to one in his younger cycles. But he felt more like an older sibling to him.

The smaller biker mech laughed and protested when Prank grabbed him in a headlock and proceeded to give him a noogie with a hand that now looked more like a Tigerhawk's than a regular city-dweller's. He was let go after a moment. The hand swapped back to normal even as he watched only for a trod to morph into one that belonged more on an Equinine than a regular mech. He'd seen this happen before. It was almost like Prank had no conscious control over the morphing and just let it happen. Since he knew who he really was, that kinda made some sense.

"Look at you!" beamed the morphing stranger happily, "There's somethin' different about you! No wait! Don't tell me!" He paused and looked him over. "New decals and a muffler mod, amiright?"

Backdraft laughed and displayed the new flame decals decorating his arm. Gleefully he swapped back to his alt. mode and made his engine purr loudly.

"You know how sensitive kids and Preds are to noise. Decided I'd get a mod that let me determine how loud I wanna be," he explained, "instead of just picking to be really loud or really quiet. Kid last night really appreciated it."

"Atta mech!" approved Prank. "Just because you like to be loud don't mean everyone else does. And what's this about a kid?"

He clarified:

"Oh! that. Little guy named Rut was past his curfew and had wandered pretty far from home with his Tigerhawk pal. Wound up getting a bit lost. I got the guy home as fast I could; the 'hawk followed me. Apparently I was going too fast and the cops honed in on me. Of course, the cops let me finish the delivery, and one of 'em took the Tigerhawk to a nearby clannie who could get him to his own Guardians. I just got out of the overnight cell this morning. No biggie. Had the cops keeled over laughing by pre-dawn like usual."

Prank broke out in his bright laughter again, slapping a hand to his leg. He clapped him on the back.

"You and your cop slumber parties!" he teased. An elbow was poked into his side.

Backdraft shrugged, smiling. He elbowed Prank back. Spending the night in a police precinct acting as a stand-up comedian and keeping the guys company. What wasn't to love? he argued.

"You should totally join me for one. They'd love you to death!" he exclaimed. He tapped a digit on his chin thoughtfully on realizing something: "'Course, that means you gotta get arrested first...Shouldn't be too hard for you, huh?"

Prank's smile grew a little wistful.

"Wish I could," he admitted frankly, "But I got a curfew I gotta obey myself, and I gotta keep a low profile here," He snorted. "Ironic, innit? The guy who can look like anybody has to keep below the radar."

The young biker mech pouted pitifully and gave the morphing stranger the best puppy dog look he could muster. Prank smiled back and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, kid. There are some rules even I won't break."

Backdraft knew there was no arguing it. They'd had this conversion or some version of it more than once. Much as he wanted Prank to visit more or hang around for longer, he understood what he meant. He himself had some rules he wouldn't break – lines he refused to cross. And so, like the times before this, he surrendered with a hanging helm.

"Okay, okay..." he sighed. "It's always worth a shot. Here's hoping one solar cycle you'll actually say yes."

Prank reached forward and lifted his chin up. The smile was still there.

"Hey. Come on now. No droopy attitudes. Stay positive! I'll have a talk with the boss. Maybe we'll reach a compromise."

He put on a smile for him. Some visits were better than none at all he supposed – and Prank would have a chat with his boss to see if they'd let him stick around for a shenanigan soiree with some of his agents. That made up for it.

"Atta mech," approved Prank warmly. "Keep up the good work, kid. I need good agents like you."

Backdraft's genuine, broad smile returned. He crisply saluted to the ordinary-looking mech before him.

"Yes, sir!"

Prank laughed and grabbed him one last time, rubbing a fist onto his helm until Backdraft squirmed free, laughing and grinning.

Oh! And before I forget!" Prank said. "Got a little something for you. Call it a present."

He handed him a canister of spray paint. Grinning, Backdraft took it. The label said it was bright neon orange – his favorite. He'd been running out of late. He then handed him another that was bright neon turquoise.

The deceptively normal looking stranger winked. "Have a little fun today, eh?"

A series of keens made the biker whip his helm around a look up. Three Sky Painters swooped and soared in one of their free-form aerial games, passing a small lob ball between each other and performing tricks with it: Fritillary, Downpour, and Minstrel. The trio was a varied bunch of color and design. But it seemed they hadn't heard him. All they did was call down to him cheerfully after spotting him and fly on after he waved back, passing the lob ball around. He chuckled. Smiling, he turned back to address the morphing stranger.

"Hey, Pra-"

But his words cut off. He blinked. Prank was gone. Like, _gone_ gone. The alley was devoid of life apart from him now.

Backdraft still smiled. Prank always pulled this trick off.

"Y'know, you might as well just re-name yourself Bat-Mech..." he said. "You got that vanishing act down _pat_."

Rolling his optics, he darted back out into the main street.

* * *

As he drove he scanned the skies for the three Painters that had flown by. It took a few breems of searching to spot them, but spot them he did. He raced after them, skillfully weaving in and out of traffic. Prank had more than one agent in this city, and one of them so happened to be a close friend of his who signed himself to the Shifter alongside him: Hijinks. But he'd been in that cell for most of the afternoon and all last night. That was time enough for him to wander pretty far. If anyone had laid optics on him it would be a Seeker, a Painter, or a Tigerhawk.

"Frit!" he called up.

The three Painters slowed to a hover and glanced down. Downpour caught the ball in one of his talons, snagging it via a small loop-like cable.

"Hey there, 'Draft!" cried Fritillary.

"What up!" greeted the two mechs.

He wisely got off the street. They followed him, one alighting on a street lamp and the other on the curved chrome awning of a business.

"You guys seen 'Jinx anywhere?" he asked.

They shared glances.

"Sure!" said Minstrel. "Saw him heading for that construction site on the south side! Y'know – that new arena they're setting up for the Games?"

"Yeah, but knowin' _that_ guy," drawled Downpour humorously, "there's no guarantee he'll still be there when _you_ get there. You know how he is."

He grinned. Yep, he sure did. "Thanks!"

"No prob!"

"Sure!"

"Anytime!"

They took off and resumed their game. It was friendly interactions like this one that cemented Altihexian's relationship with Predacons – and their confusion as to why so many other 'bots didn't like or trust them. Give pleasant, get pleasant. Seriously. Common decency wasn't _that_ hard of an idea to grasp. Even a lot of the 'Cons here got that.

* * *

"Get down from there ya crazy loon!"

That was the first thing Backdraft heard when he pulled up to the rising skeleton of the Games arena. They weren't for another few stellar cycles but an arena this size took time to construct.

Transforming, the young biker mech found a group of construction workers standing at the base of the structure, optics riveted on the form high above them. Some of them were even snorting back laughter. He followed their upward gazes up to the highest beams currently in place on the arena to find a familiar figure monkeying around: a pale copper Canipid mech accented in red and turquoise blue. He bore a bright silver and neon turquoise tattoo on one arm in the shape of a dancing Earth creature called a coyote playing an old Rust Age instrument called a _czi'a_. Odd combo but it looked great on him. The figure itself was playing a modern version of a _czi'a_ , the airy notes flowing in a lively tune. A shimmering turbo-hawk feather hung from one of his long, pointed audials.

"Hijinks!" he called up to the figure. "Having fun up there, pal?!"

Hanging upside down from his legs, the Canipid mech's helm jerked downwards to reveal bright, impish green optics. The _czi'a_ left his lip-plates.

"'Draft?!" Hijinks cried. "Where you been, brother?!"

Backdraft waved, smiling. A few of the construction workers greeted him while one or two mumbled what sounded like "Great...another _a'almvus_..." But those mumblers were, he noticed, trying hard not to smile. Agents of Amalgamous were treated as playful sparklings in this city who were possibly in need of protection. Very few considered them a genuine nuisance. Many were welcomed into homes in need of someone to look after their kid for a while if they were busy elsewhere. Some even outright refused payment, enjoying the games and play as much as the sparkling.

"Oh, y'know! Just the usual! Cop slumber party!" Backdraft shouted in reply.

Hijinks broke out in hysterical laughter, arms holding his sides. His laughter might as well have been a contagious disease. Not even the mumbling, ever-so-slightly-annoyed builders were immune to it. Soon enough the whole group was laughing.

"You _a'almvi_ just can't stay out of trouble, can you?" griped the foremech humorously.

Backdraft winked and smiled. "Aw, come on. It's not like we _mean_ to get in trouble, Truss! We just like to kid around, make 'bots laugh. We don't cause harm."

A worker by name of Veranda argued wisely: "Yeah, well if he don't get down from there he might hurt himself. Stuff hasn't been properly supported just yet. Not to mention we're supposed to be workin' on that section so we _can_ reinforce it. Can't have it fallin' on the spectators in high winds. Or fallin' on us while we work on it for that matter."

Hijinks heard the complaint and blinked. "Oh! Sorry! I didn't realize! I thought you would work your way up!"

There was a faint flash of turquoise light and Hijinks's form disappeared off the beam. Some of the workers jumped in spite of themselves when he reappeared before them a half astrosecond later, smiling innocently and apologetically. He apologized to the foremech with a slight bow of his helm. The foremech chortled, clapping him on the back. Truss said it was alright. He could even stick around if he wanted to so long as he didn't impede their work. Hijinks's wide smile returned.

"Maybe your friend could help us out?" he suggested, focusing on Backdraft, "Heard from Stucco that he's lent crews a bit of advice and help now and again."

The young biker mech grinned and saluted. "Happy to help, chief!"

* * *

 _Later..._

It hadn't taken long for Backdraft to turn the lower, stronger sections of the arena into a jungle gym. He spun around support vertical beams and wire-walked on the horizontal ones – to test their strength but also to have a little fun in the process. Hijinks hung upside down from a beam above him, continuing his air tune to the enjoyment of the workers. He didn't recognize the song so he had to assume he was either making it up as he went or it was a tribal song not often heard outside the pack.

"So...When we're done here..." Backdraft prompted slyly, sliding around a vertical beam to balance precariously on one trod on a connecting horizontal one.

Hijinks's tune stopped. He looked down at the biker mech. "Yeah?"

"You up for a little merry mischief? I got some new spray paint..." He displayed the neon orange canister suggestively. The other was held in a lean saddlebag on his hip.

The Canipid mech's turquoise optics widened as a smile split his faceplates. "No...you're not meaning...?"

"Oh yeah. Assignment from up top, ro-bro. You gonna say no to the big boss? You know what gifts from him mean."

Hijinks's hysterical laughter split the air again. Some of the workers looked up curiously.

"Of course not, brother! I'm totally in! Any idea what the boss has in mind? Like, did he detail the assignment at all?"

Backdraft shrugged and admitted Prank hadn't said anything much in the way of assignment specifics. He'd just said to "have some fun." Considering they now had spray paint specially made for agents of the Shifter Prime, things could get hilarious in a sparkpulse. The stuff had some very peculiar qualities you didn't find in regular spray paints, and it drove maintenance 'bots absolutely crazy because of that.

"So...you got a target in mind, brother?" Hijinks wondered.

The biker mech swung up to the higher beam his friend was on and took a seat, letting one leg dangle. It was a broad catalog they had to pick from here. Altihex had a lot of buildings. Council Hall was off the board, though. Screwloose didn't need any trouble from them even if he happily endorsed the Shifter's agents to spread mirth across his city.

"I dunno. What do you think?"

Hijinks considered for a moment before answering: "Think we could pay a visit to a foundling home? Haven't visited the little biters for a while. We could leave our mark on the walls...they'd enjoy that. Oh! Or we could leave one of the Shifter's proverbs. Or both! We could do both, right? We could have some fun on the way! We could even leave some marks here, on this place!"

The biker mech's smiled broadened. That sounded picture perfect to him.

"Oi! Jinxy!" called a worker high above them. "Could you bring up some some of that lube? The lift's stuck!"

"Right-ho!"

Hijinks disappeared down to ground level, snagged a small container of industrial-grade lube lying near a pile of beams, and teleported up to where the worker was. Backdraft heard the two exchange thanks and pleasantries. He shook his helm with a smile and a chuckle. He guessed that with a teleporter present the workers would take advantage of it. A look up did show the lift the workers were using to ascend did indeed appear as if it had jammed for some reason. Soon enough, Hijinks reappeared, crouched on the beam above him.

"So?"

Backdraft dug into the slim saddlebag on his hip and tossed his fellow _a'almvus_ his canister of spray paint. The playful Blue Moon caught it. He held up his own, rattling it.

"Let's get to work."

Hijinks teleported to his side, put a hand on him, and together they teleported down to ground level where the workers were not. Truss glanced at them, on ground level as he was supervising his crew. There was a look on his faceplates that warned them not to cause any major trouble. Two digits hovered over his optics and were then pointed at them in a classic " _I'm watching you..._ " gesture. There was however a smile on his lip-plates. Truss knew well enough it was a pointless endeavor to tell them to stay out of trouble – it was their mission to cause mischief. But then again it never hurt to give them the warning...maybe one solar cycle they'd listen to it. Digits crossed.

Putting on innocently angelic little smiles, Hijinks teleported them around the other side of the arena. Snickering, they each began spraying a message in flowing calligraphic glyphs on the interior side of the massive support beams that held up the entrance – one in bright neon orange, the other in shimmering neon turquoise; one in Canipian, the other in modern Altihexian. At the end of the messages, they left their signatures: Backdraft's was a little stylized lick of a fire and Hijinks's being a tinnier, simplified version of his tribal tattoo. It took them almost a breem and a half to finish both. Once done the two shared a high-five.

"We're getting in _so_ much trouble for this." Hijinks snickered.

"Nah," Backdraft dismissed casually, "Remember: we're only in trouble if we get caught!"

"Hey!"

They spun. A patrol officer stood there, lean and lithe. Hijinks could hear her engine prepping, and just from the sound of it he knew this was a Chaser, not just a patrol officer. They were _trained_ and _built_ for high speed pursuits. And since they didn't recognize her that meant she was most likely a transfer from out of town. Not good. From that combat stance alone he judged her either as Tyger Paxian, Canyon Dweller, or Kaonian.

"Mech, we're in trouble..." Hijinks decided quickly.

"What do you think you're doing? This is a work zone!" She spotted the canisters as they were sheepishly hidden behind their backstruts. "Are those...? Are you vandalizing?!"

The two mechs shared a glance, spotting a familiar form behind her. Backdraft gave his friend a sly smile and a thumbs up. Trouble was gone. They were good.

"Oh! thank you, madam! I'm so glad you found them!"

The Chaser jumped. A regular looking 'bot had strolled up behind her and come around to shake her hand. He now strolled over to the two mischief makers. The look of confusion on her faceplates nearly made them laugh. He began to shepherd them away. The Chaser appeared rooted in her spot, apparently torn between her frozen state of confusion and tearing after them like a starving scraplet.

"What are you doing here?" Hijinks whispered to the stranger.

The mysterious stranger winked and whispered back: "Just follow my lead..."

"Are you their legal Guardian?" the Chaser asked once she was out of he confused stupor. She jogged after them.

"You...could say that..." admitted the stranger with a disarming, pleasant smile.

Her hostility simmered up on noticing the stranger was gradually leading the miscreants away from her. Frankly, she didn't recognize him as one of the locals and he could be a trouble maker of even greater proportions. She noticed them speed up their pace, earning more ire. Tricks like that didn't work on her.

"Hey! I'm not done with you yet! I need statements for my report!"

"Well, you're going to have to head to the station empty-handed there, sweet-spark..."

The stranger winked at the Canipid mech. A cheeky grin formed. There was a sudden increase in light – bright turquoise light. Then, before she could think to issue an exclamation for them to stop whatever he was doing:

 _VOIP!_

The Chaser stood gawking at the spot the three mechs had been standing not even a nano-klick ago. She heard an animal's howl come from behind her. Looking up, she saw them atop one of the low towers that made up part of the Altihexian Academy. The mysterious stranger waved at her, then offered a teasing salute of all things to finish off the playful taunt.

"Catch ya later, toots!" he shouted genially.

With another flash of bright turquoise the three mechs disappeared altogether.

"Wha-Y-GET BACK HERE!"

The Chaser, Chicane of Iacon, growled and transformed in a flurry and gunned her accelerator to its limit. They thought they could get away that easy, did they? Oh, no. Not on her chronometer. Vandalism was a misdemeanor according to the law – but it was a crime all the same. And she rather fancied she recognized that biker mech...something her chief had mentioned? Hopefully she could ask when she dragged him and his associates in.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hehehe. There'll be other, short chapters like this in the near future.**

 ***** _Note for Random Person:_

 _1.) It takes a bit of thought to come up with these titles, believe me. And of course you'd be unfamiliar with the language because it doesn't even exist in real life_ – _it's my take on Cybertronian language. I try and keep each city's dialect different from each other, and I try to keep Predacon language as different from city language as I can, going by the idea their voice boxes are vastly different._

 _2.) A'almvi is the old Cybertronian title "Agent of Amalgamous." Literally translated it means "Changer follower" or "Shifter follower." A'almvi is plural, A'almvus is singular. :) A'almvus is pronounced "Ay-alm-vos" and A'almvi is pronounced "Ay-alm-vee."_

 _2.5.) I sometimes intentionally leave Cybertronian words untranslated so as to give more flavor and an alien feel to the story. :) I do that in Tcsovan as well. It's mostly in First Star you'll see me translating the alien dialect._


	2. Chapter 2

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Teleport Tag  
**

* _This will start with Hijinks's perspective but swap to Backdraft. Let the antics commence!  
_

* * *

"Half pay? You sure? Seems like I'm rippin' ya off, son."

Hijinks stood in the main entryway of a suburban dwelling with the Seekerlet charge of the big, well-built Seeker mech across from him held in his arms. The young Canipid's optics twinkled and a smile graced his lip-plates that was playfully genuine. A digit poked at the child's soft chassis and laughter erupted. A soft laugh escaped his vocalizer. This wasn't the first time someone had been surprised at his altruistic nature when working as a part-time sitter for sparklings, and he felt for sure it wouldn't be the last. To him, it just didn't feel right to take the whole payment when he'd enjoyed the time as much as the kid. Seventy credits for just a couple of hours seemed a bit much in his opinion. It was just a part-time gig anyhow.

"It's fine, sir. Really," he reassured with an amiable grin. "We Preds don't use creds the same way you city-'bots do. I just use it for basics. And for warp drive maintenance. Thirty-five's fine. I save most for when I really need it. Call it a rainy day fund."

"Alright," conceded the Seeker a tad reluctantly. "Still feels like I'm ripping ya off here..."

The young Canipid laughed and again told him it was alright. If anything, he was ripping himself off for accepting lower pay. But it was okay. Really. Honestly. This was just a part-time thing for him.

The Seeker chortled himself and fished into a subspace pocket, bringing out one silver token worth fifteen and a pale red one worth twenty. Carefully balancing the Seekerlet under one arm, he took the three tokens and stashed them in his own shallow subspace on his hip. He thus handed the child back to its rightful Guardian as gingerly as if handling a live bomb. The larger Seeker, Staggertrack, then put his charge on the ground. Another flurry of tickles met the Seekerlet and more laughter erupted. Hijinks laughed himself, louder this time. Oh, he'd miss this kid by mid-cycle tomorrow. He could already tell.

Bowing his helm and thanking the mech for letting him watch his little one, Hijinks strode for the door. A good afternoon's work if he did say so himself.

"Can't he stay a little longer?" protested the Seekerlet.

Hijinks stopped on the threshold, turned, and backtracked. Smiling, he gave the sparkling flier a friendly noogie on his helm.

"Aw. I'd love to, Gyro. But I don't want to be a drag on your old mech," he explained. Then he looked up at his Guardian and went on: "But if your old mech ever needs me again, I'll be happy to lend a paw. That sound good to you?"

Gyro smiled and bounced merrily on his little trods. "Yay!"

Staggertrack smiled and chuckled. "I'll be sure to give you a call if I need someone to watch him again. I'm just glad you answered such short notice. That meeting came out of bleedin' nowhere."

Hijinks laughed: "Alright, then! Come on, little mech, give me some! Seal the deal for me!"

He knelt and put his hand out, palm-side facing the littler mech, and let the Seekerlet clap his own tiny limb against his in a good old fashioned high five. More giggles erupted when he pulled the kid close and gave him one last noogie. Gyro was then released, and Hijinks made exit from the dwelling. Once he was out on the sidewalks, he turned back one last time to see Gyro at the door, waving and smiling. Returning the smile, the young Canipid saluted, bowed with a flourish, and blinked away in a flash of bright turquoise like a showmech making his final, grand exit from the stage.

* * *

A lone mech sat on the roof of a Foundling Home, legs dangling off the edge of the roof and his hands behind him like the supports of a building. His bright color scheme and shimmering amber gaze stood out like beacons as he watched the Seekers dance through the darkening skies, their lights creating ghostly trails behind them.

When a flash occurred beside him he did not jolt or jump. Backdraft merely turned to the side and smiled broadly, fist-bumping the Canipid when he came near. Hijinks took a seat himself and joined him.

"Job went okay?" the biker mech asked.

"Yep!" Hijinks answered cheerfully, "Gyro was great. I even got him to glide a little bit today. Got him all the way across the main foyer when I let him go from the second story balcony-thing. Told the old mech and he was so proud! You totally should've seen it! Little guy was so psyched!"

Backdraft chuckled and said he was sorry he'd missed it. First Flight was a big deal for fliers like Seekers. Kind of ironic that a ground-bound Canipid could help teach a flier to fly. Hijinks laughed and agreed.

Their gazes went from the skies to the ground when the lights of a duo of patrollers flashed from below. It didn't look like they were chasing anyone; neither was speeding. Both vehicles were going along at a steady pace. Interestingly, Hijinks and Backdraft recognized one of them as the Chaser who'd nearly gotten them for vandalizing a few solar cycles ago. A slumber party with one of the north stations revealed her name as Chicane. Iaconian apparently. What interested them even more was that the smaller vehicle beside her they did not recognize. A transfer or a new recruit obviously. Hijinks oriented his audials to better catch any conversation, thus revealing Chicane was doing a "familiarity" run – simply called an "f-run" by officers – with some young mech named Bluestreak to better teach them the layout of the city.

"Booring..." Hijinks concluded with a roll of his optics.

Backdraft grinned and jerked a thumb down to the patrollers. "So how about we make their f-run more... _interesting_? You up for a little game of _telv bzq?_ "

Hijinks snickered: "Brother, you read my mind. I've been itchin' for a good game."

The biker mech gestured: "After you, then."

Cackling, Hijinks flung himself off the roof with a howl. Backdraft followed, parkouring down the side of the building by leaping from its side to the side of another building, landing in the alley between them. His helm peeked out just in time to see Hijinks warp right onto Chicane's hood, earning a startled yelp from both officers. Hijinks tapped a digit onto her windshield.

"Tag! You're it! You're it!" he cried merrily.

 _VOIP_!

Hijinks was gone in a flash. When neither officer gave chase, he warped back and tapped Chicane's windshield a second time with the same merry cry. He then warped into the middle of the street, pulled out his _czi'a_ , and began to play a lively tune that he happily danced to. Traffic stopped almost at the same time as foot and air traffic. Laughs were heard from the local observers.

" _You!_ " Chicane realized. Her engine rumbled. "Where's your friend, huh? My chief told me you two worked together."

But Hijinks offered no answer. On he played, on he danced. Angry as she was the noise seemed to enrapture her or else confound her. Either way it worked to Hijinks's purpose. He was careful not to shift his gaze and alert her, keeping his optics shuttered. He didn't need to move his audials around to hear his partner begin his approach. With the Iaconian Chaser distracted, Backdraft darted out from the alley and into the exposed open road, causing quiet knowing snickers among the gathering observers. Sneaking up behind the similarly distracted Bluestreak, he tapped his fender with a digit and said:

"Tag! You're it!"

Laughing, the young biker mech front-trucked over the smaller patroller, a palm striking his canopy to give him extra height and momentum, and landed in front of him. His opinion about Bluestreak became highly positive when the mech not only laughed but applauded the acrobatic stunt whole-sparkedly to the chagrin of his superior. Heh. This mech wasn't so bad. His fellow officer would take more work though.

Hijinks's playing stopped. Grinning at Backdraft, he childishly stuck his glossa out at the Chaser before turning around and waggling his tail at her.

"Nee ner nee ner nee ner!" he teased.

Chicane was practically fuming by that point. He could've sworn he saw steam percolating out from under her hood. Oh, this was gonna be a blast.

Then:

 _VOIP!_ He reappeared further down the road, clinging to a low balcony like a spider.

"Catch us if you can!" Backdraft taunted, winking.

Hooting, he transformed and raced off down the road. The small assemblage around the patrollers broke out in laughter. At the center, the growl of Chicane's engine became an all-consuming lion-like roar. Crying "After them!" to the younger officer at her side, the Chaser barreled down the road after the playful young Althihexians like a cheetah after its speedy prey.

* * *

" _Faster, ro-bro! She's floorin' it!_ " Backdraft shouted, laughing.

Their laughter rang out and turquoise flashes lit up the evening city skyline. Nipping at the biker's rear axle was the Chaser herself, lights and sirens deployed and thundering at him to stop and pull over. Holy Primes did she sound _ticked_. This lady needed a chill pill, pronto. Hijinks ran alongside him in beast form. He could've teleported them up on a building and they could've lost her easily that way, but honestly – where was the fun in that?

* _Split up?_ * Hijinks wondered, barely able to get the words out through his hysterical laughing.

* _Roger dodger!_ *

Reaching a four-way intersection the two mechs pulled apart, one going south and one going west. Backdraft checked his rear-view mirrors to see Chicane roaring after him. Laughing, he sped through the traffic, weaving through it as easily as if the street had been empty – and that was mostly thanks to the vehicles pulling out of his way. A few gave him some warnings but a greater portion cheered him on with hoots of laughter and egged the game on. Chicane kept on after him with dogged persistence.

"PULL OVER PUNK!" she hollered.

"Only if you catch me!" Backdraft answered playfully.

He pulled down another road. A flash above and Hijinks raced past, Bluestreak in hot pursuit and laughing with him like the best of friends.

"Bluestreak!" Chicane shouted. "Catch him! Don't play with him!"

Hijinks gave a howl of delight and raced on, warping further down the road. He peeled around another corner and was gone from sight. Some stay-at-home Academy students observing from a balcony roared their support, the high-grade in the hands held high like victory banners. Backdraft wolf-whistled at the femme, jumped the curb and transformed, the squeal of Chicane's heavy-duty brakes echoing from behind. Running straight at the wall he jumped up and grabbed the lowest bar, swinging himself up like a gymnast. Knowing he only had a few moments to spare he quickly introduced himself to her.

"Swivet, right? I think I saw you a couple solar cycles ago."

A smile broke out on her face.

"Yeah."

"Mind if I get your frequency?"

The mech beside her grinned in a warning kind of way.

"Whoa there, mech. Ask her bro first _before_ you try to get her number."

Swivet giggled. "Oh, stop it! He's totally cute! And fun!"

Her glanced to the side on hearing Chicane's engine fire back up. Like lightning she came thundering back towards him. Saluting the femme casually, he dropped down back to street level just as the Chaser's form passed underneath the balcony. Laughing, he went in the opposite direction. Outraged, Chicane once more hit her breaks, spun, and raced after him. If she wasn't fuming mad before she was definitely fuming mad now. But that didn't bother him in the least – he'd met a cute femme! And he'd pulled that parkour stunt off rather well if he did say so himself.

"Call me!" he shouted back.

Rounding a corner, he was gone.

* * *

Racing down the main thoroughfare that ran through the city-center, Backdraft cackled and jabbed light-sparkedly at his pursuer whom he had gained some considerable distance on. That was the thing with Chasers that he'd found out: their horse-power was superb, but maneuvering was a challenge at their high speeds. The tell-tale _Voip!_ of Hijinks's teleporting grew nearer. He must've shown the new mech around the outer reaches already and was coming to rendezvous. Good on him.

He charged at the building ahead and leapt, aiming to get height enough to hit the roof and whistle for his friend to warp them out – and Hijinks promptly barreled into him like a runaway cannonball. A cry that was not theirs rang out. Both mechs were sent tumbling across the road until they hit the exterior of another building where they wound up as a tangle of limbs. Bluestreak pulled up beside them and transformed, worry marring his cheerful faceplates.

"Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh! Are you guys okay?!"

Grinning, Hijinks gave him a somewhat delirious thumbs up, grinning. Backdraft on the other hand?

"WHOO-YEAH! THAT WAS AWESOME!" he cheered.

Bluestreak couldn't help laughing. He didn't understand why Chicane didn't like these guys. They were great fun! Hijinks really lived up to his name.

Chicane pulled up then, transforming as she skidded to a stop. Her hands grabbed the stasis cuffs that hung on her hip, clamping them on the two miscreants with a certain degree of satisfaction. She hauled them each to their pedes.

"Aw, but Chicane! Do you _have_ to arrest them?" Bluestreak protested. "I've never had so much fun on patrol in my life!"

But the Chaser remained firm.

"They were speeding in a city-center, they evaded arrest, and they could've put civilians at risk with their antics." she said.

"You're _supposed_ to run from the 'bot you tagged, silly!" Backdraft said smilingly. "Have you never played _telv bzq_ in your life?"

"Save it for my chief, punk." Chicane growled.

Still smiling broadly, Backdraft shrugged, transformed, and let himself be hooked to the Chaser's tow cable. Bluestreak didn't seem very happy about the cuffs on Hijinks but told him to follow at his side; roping him would just feel wrong he admitted. Chuckling, the Blue Moon mech amiably agreed to follow him back to the station.

"Good game, ro-bro." Backdraft told him as they started off.

Hijinks grinned: "Good game."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** _ **Telv bzq**_ **or "teleport tag" is a Cybertronian game well known to anyone with a teleportation ability.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Third Time's the Charm  
**

* _Inspired by the art piece by Shy-Light called "Seeker Color Run"_

 _Takes place after "Teleport Tag" Kind of a follow up to it :) Funny thing with A'almvi is that when you knock 'em down, they get right back up_ – _and promptly return to their shenanigans._

 _*In my mind, Tigerian (the language of the Tigerhawks) is an odd mixture of Chinese and Spanish-sounding words, accents and grammar rules. I'll correct what I said about Avian: Avian sounds a bit like Latin for their formal language, but informal sounds almost German with a touch of Swahili and Dutch. Draconian, when translated anyway, is like Old English with a frequent use of kinings, or artful metaphors_ – _like ocean being called "whale-road" in Beowulf for example._

* * *

Chicane stood before her chief in an understandably foul mood. Fastlane was not helping her mood any with his laid-back smile, obviously entertained by what he saw but at least had the decency not to laugh. Her frown deepened but she did not say a word; that would be against protocol. She would never understand Altihexians, and she would never in her life understand why her chief had transferred her here of all places. Oh, what she'd give for the organization of Praxus right now, or the familiarity of Iacon. This city was downright mad.

"You ever stop the think you're taking this job just a tad too seriously, Chicane?" he asked her calmly, leaning forward on his desk.

"Sir, with all due respect, I am not in the mood for jokes. This is the second time I've run into these delinquents in the past deca-cycle, and each time they've caused me no end of trouble. They've become bolder, sir. Graffiti the first time, and a dangerous game the second time that could've very well resulted in civilian injury. They themselves were mildly hurt come the conclusion of it. They were lucky a few dents was all they got from that collision, and they were lucky no civilians were hit when they were actively evading me."

"I thought they made it clear they were not evading you in your capacity as an officer." Fastlane reminded her. "They were playing a game of _telv bzq_ with you. You're supposed to run from the player you tagged. It's in the rules."

The Iaconian femme's brow darkened. Fastlane picked up on it and his demeanor became more professional.

"Chicane, I know you were doing your job as a Chaser and a law officer but you don't need to worry about these two. They're harmless, I promise. Backdraft and Hijinks are both devout _a'almvi_ , not lowlifes or crooks. The _last_ thing on their minds is hurting anyone."

"Sir," she argued, "just because they follow the Shifter Prime's doctrine doesn't mean they're above the law. They evaded arrest, they sped in a crowded city center, and before this they defaced public property."

"And just because you're doing your job doesn't mean you get to pick on 'em for doin' theirs."

Chicane blinked. "Sir, their records show they are unemployed aside from temporary jobs such as sitting for busy Guardians. What –?"

Her chief asked her a strange question then.

"What's the task of a law officer, Chicane?"

Taken aback, she didn't answer right away. She thought it was a bit of a redundant question but she answered anyway:

"Protect the people."

He nodded. She still didn't quite understand why he'd asked that.

" _A'almvi_ are the followers of the Shifter Prime Amalgamous, which you obviously are well aware of. Their 'job' is an important one even if it doesn't pay well: they exist to make others around them smile and laugh, to enjoy their lives and brighten their solar cycles. They are entertainers, comedians, and playful hooligans. Our own Councilor is an honorary _a_ _'almvus_ , though he hasn't officially taken the Oath. The worst you'll ever see them stoop to are bad puns or harmless tricks. You won't ever find them committing an actual offense. Guardians wouldn't trust 'em around their kids if that were true."

"Ooh! Such flattery, chief! We're blushin' here, really! And we can't blush!"

Chicane reined in the urge to growl at that cheerful voice from behind. She couldn't keep her armor from flaring aggressively though. She turned to see Backdraft and Hijinks together peeping their helms into Fastlane's office with wide grins. The two officers behind them smiled and stifled laughter. Fastlane himself smiled and rolled his optics.

"Would you make it a favor to me and stop messin' with Chicane here? You've really got her wires in a twist, boys. You keep this up she might just snap."

Two sets of optics went round as those of innocent sparklings, mouths curling into adorable pouts. Hijinks even let out a little puppy-like whine as his tail drooped.

"Come on," he insisted, waggling a digit at them. "Leave her be. She's new here. Let her adjust before you try anything with her. Iacon ain't Altihex."

They conceded with dramatic sighs. Fastlane waved them and the officers behind them onward, and only he noticed that Hijinks's digits were crossed behind him, and a sly wink was tossed his way by his friend. He had to resist the urge to burst into laughter. It looked like they had one more trick up their sleeves to try and loosen his newest addition up. He wondered what was on their minds – for _a'almvi_ weren't exactly known for their subtlety.

* * *

"Stay out of trouble, alright?" warned the senior officer as she removed the cuffs from each mech's wrists.

The two young mechs laughed and assured them that any trouble they made would be of the good variety. That was their job!

The officer quirked a brow ridge but smiled. Normally watching overnight cells was a dull business but whenever these two got plopped into one the night was always too short in her opinion. Cybertron needed more of these Shifter Followers in times like these. Shame there weren't very many of them. Too bad Chicane didn't seem to like them very much, but Iacon was a lot firmer than Altihex what with all their political nonsense. Like chief had said, she would take some time to adjust before their antics really started to look as they were meant: funny. Funny and fun.

"Promise you'll come back and visit some time!" Bluestreak gushed. "I've never played tag on patrol before! That was so much fun! And you made night watch so much more fun! That's usually kinda boring and you made it hard just to stop laughing or smiling! I don't know what Chicane's problem with you guys is. You guys're great!"

Backdraft bowed in unison with Hijinks.

"All part of the service!" they said grandly.

"Go on. Out with your afts. Scram." teased the older officer.

Laughing, both mechs darted off into the daylight. Hijinks cupped a hand around his mouth and howled, leaping into the air and fist-pumping. Bluestreak laughed. These guys had so much energy!

"We'll see 'em again, right?" he asked. "Please say we'll see 'em again!"

The smile on the femme's lip-plates, though small and laced with old pain, was genuine. They reminded her so much of friends she'd lost, but at the same time their mere presence was helping to wash that old pain away. They were just so...so _alive,_ so _innocent_. Like Disney's _Peter Pan_ they seemed to remain forever young, joking and laughing and playing like overgrown sparklings. She wished she could be like them some solar cycles. How she yeared to forget the War and be young again. But you couldn't forget war, and you couldn't forget loss.

"I think we will," the dark blue and silver femme admitted. "Actually, if you want to you can follow them, Blue. See what they're up to; make sure they don't try anything _too_ insane."

The look Bluestreak gave her made her think the decision was worth it. He looked like he'd just won the lottery: mouth open, optics round, and hands to his cheeks.

"Go on. You'll lose 'em if you don't start. If they can out-drive a Chaser they can out-drive you."

Bluestreak gave a happy shriek of delight. Transforming, he raced in the direction the two ne'er-do-wells had gone in, shouting "Guys, guys, guys! Wait for me!" Backdraft and Hijinks stopped just before they rounded a corner and soon enough they dragged the young mech along like he was the missing third of a trio. Soon enough they were gone from sight. But she could assume some spontaneous urge overtook the Blue Moon youth, for the sound of his _czi'a_ quickly reached her. The airy, lively notes danced in her audials – a song of vitality and youth, of wind and energy and life and joy. At least that's what it sounded like to her.

Bluestreak and Backdraft's laughter soon joined the song. She could only imagine what Hijinks was doing to earn it.

Arcee's smiled broadened by a fraction. She gently shook her helm. Kids.

* * *

The trio of youths continued to laugh and talk as they went along. Backdraft once again thought that Bluestreak would make a good _a'almvus_. He had all the traits. But meh – that was his decision to make at the end of the solar cycle. He still liked him either way; knew how to not take life too seriously and have a little fun. Good to know that not all transfer cops were bores.

"Why were your digits cross earlier at the precinct, Hijinks?" Bluestreak wondered innocently, "You're not gonna go against Fastlane's orders are you?"

Hijinks cackled. That didn't encourage him.

"Not exactly. Let's just say: third time's _gotta_ be the charm. Right, ro-bro?"

The trickster Canipid held a fist up. Backdraft met it and replied: "Definitely, ro-bro."

Bluestreak's optics went round. Realization struck him like a lightning bolt.

"You're gonna prank Chicane?! But he told you not to! You guys'll get in trouble!"

"He told us not to _bug_ her or wind her up," clarified Hijinks with a grin. "Never told us not to prank her. Technicalities, Bluestreak, technicalities. Besides, if she doesn't know it was us – no harm done, eh?"

The young officer stared at them. "You realize that if _anything_ happens to her today she's gonna _instantly_ think it was you guys, right?"

Ah, but that was the beauty of it they argued slyly. They'd call in some friends to help them out with this one; _they'd_ be the ones to perpetrate the prank. Chicane was new to the city so she wouldn't stop to think these friends were in cahoots with them. But first things first they said: supplies were needed. Namely paint. When asked why paint was needed Backdraft merely laughed. He'd get why in a bit he said.

One after the other the two _a'almvi_ transformed and took off down the road. Confused but not willing to leave them alone (Arcee _had_ given him instructions) Bluestreak followed after them until they were in a primarily business-heavy district of the city. Well, if they were aiming to find paint this would probably be the best place to look. They led him through a few side streets until they slowed their pace on a particular street lined with small businesses. Bluestreak was happy to note their target in mind was a body shop turned artist's studio that had the form of a garage, open to the air. Inside, an Avioid femme of about Backdraft's height, vibrantly colored and stunning in her appearance, worked on a vehicle-forming client's arms. The femme's helm moved to the rock and roll music that blared from the sound system's in her business. All around the studio were pieces of art that ranged from canvas-pieces to tattoo designs to holo-stills of spectacular alien vistas.

"Vignette!" Backdraft hollered from their position across the street, waving.

The Avioid femme steadied her hand and removed the stylus from the client's mesh before she looked up. With her helm up Bluestreak noticed she bore elaborate facial tattoos on one side of her faceplates and one of her audials bore multiple punk-style loop piercings. She was an odd mix of tribal elegance and rebelliousness in her appearance, and he kinda liked the look. Eagerly she waved them over, smiling.

"Ha! _M'tz mornagna skr'et!_ " she greeted in an unusual accent Bluestreak couldn't place. "Come in, come in!"

She let the client off the slab with orders to keep his arms still and came over to them in a friendly flurry of feathers, performing a strange gesture on each of them in turn: a double-touch of her lip-plates on either side of their cheeks. The young officer found himself a little bewildered by this. He wasn't used to Preds being so openly friendly. It was...different. And he liked it.

"What can I do for the city's _a'almvi_ this solar cycle, hm?" asked the beast femme.

The two miscreants shared smiled and asked: "You got any spare paint left over from a project we could use?"

"It'll go to a good cause!" Hijinks added.

Vignette's smile broadened, and she admitted that for them she would buy a fresh stock if it came down to it. Altihex was better with the Shifter Followers around to spread mirth and merry.

"But as it happens, yes," she said. "I have some leftover paint you're more than welcome to. I suppose you need them for one of your infamous color runs?"

"Yep!" Backdraft affirmed happily.

They shared a laugh. She bid them take the supplies they needed. There was even one or two canisters that appeared brand new to him, and she made no protest when one was selected. If Bluestreak hadn't been bewildered before he most certainly was now. Vignette was letting them take items from her business without paying for them? Was that even legal? Could she do that?

Vignette took notice of his surprise. Smilingly she reassured him: "It's alright, officer. It's not stealing. Consider it a donation instead. They always come to me or some of the other artists for color run supplies."

The client whom they had interrupted nodded and admitted that some artists in the district considered it bad form or impolite to not lend the _a'almvi_ any excess supplies they wouldn't use or had finished with. Such a tactic helped keep their studios free of clutter and gave what might've been otherwise stagnating paint another use. Because hey – sometimes artists went shopping and the color they picked wasn't the one they wanted for their piece, so the canister would just sit there and rust indefinitely. Better to let someone else make better, more immediate use of it in that case.

"Oh! Okay," Bluestreak said. "But, um...what the heck is a color run? You mentioned it earlier, Vignette. I'm from Iacon and I've never heard of it before, but it seems normal here just going by the way you talk about it. I know they're gonna prank Chicane, so is the color run the prank or – or what?"

The Avioid artist smiled and chuckled.

"Stick with them and you'll find out soon enough..." she hinted mysteriously.

Supplies collected, the _a'almvi_ and their tag-along bid a fond farewell to Vignette after thanking her for her help and charity.

Hijinks and Backdraft shared a celebratory high-five. Item number one on their checklist was done and dusted. Now they just needed the accomplices, and they knew just the 'bots to ask.

* * *

Backdraft led the trio around the city in an amiable dancing saunter, humming to himself. He kept his amber gaze mostly on the skies, much to Bluestreak's blatant curiosity. He didn't feel the need to satisfy it right away; it was funnier to keep him guessing. It wasn't every solar cycle Iaconian rookies green as emeralds were sent over to Altihex as transfers. He wanted to make this city memorable to him in every way.

Keens and a barking roar suddenly wafted over them from behind, as did calls in an unfamiliar language. He grinned and watched Bluestreak's helm jerk skywards as he spun around. Three Avioids and a ghostly white Tigerhawk raced towards them. He kept himself from laughing when Bluestreak panicked and ducked behind them, nervous. Wings spread wide to slow their speed. The Tigerhawk landed on the footpath they were on, while the birds kept to the skies, wings churning the air. Nervousness rising, Bluestreak drew his stun gun and aimed it at the approaching Tigerhawk.

"Whoa there, Blue! Easy!" the biker reassured smilingly.

"B-But –"

"Calm down, mech!" Hijinks said. "They're pals of ours. This is Minstrel –"

"Heeey!" greeted the strangely feminine looking fire-bird cheerfully.

"Downpour –"

The blue-grey avian beast waggled a talon at him, yellow optics sparking with electricity.

"Fritillary –"

"Easy with the firepower there, tough guy," she warned in her Canyonite drawl.

"And this here's Whitelash!" Backdraft finished.

The Tigerhawk bowed his helm, wings held low but extended a few degrees out. He greeted in his own language: " _Zaol'eh muelevuloas._ "

"Morning to you, too!" Hijinks replied.

"You three have paint..." Downpour observed. Somehow through his beak he managed to grin. "Who are you running today?"

Together, the two _a'almvi_ explained who they were pranking, why, and why they needed some help for this one. Fritillary laughed aloud on hearing them recount the game of _telv bzq_ with the Chaser in question. That had been all over the net since last night. Some Academy kids had even gotten video of it that they had happily shared.

"We'll totally help!" Fritillary declared. "She still at the station?"

"S'far as we know, yeah," answered the biker mech.

A curious look at Bluestreak confirmed the question beyond doubt. He still looked stunned that they were doing this.

"Well, then what are we waitin' for?!" Downpour cried. "Let's go add some color to her solar cycle! Come on! Last one there's a lug nut!"

The birds took off. Rolling his optics but managing a fanged smile, Whitelash pumped his wings and followed after them. Hooting, Backdraft and Hijinks transformed and took off after them.

* * *

ALTIHEX'S TENTH PRECINCT

Fed up with Fastlane's attitude, Chicane had fled to the back of the precinct to blow off some steam at the practice range. In a city this crazy she felt it fortunate the precincts here even _had_ a practice range. The police didn't seem to have much of a role here from the looks of things. Altihex was nothing like her chief had told her it would be like; he'd made it sound more like Polyhex. But why would he misinform her? It didn't make any logical sense. Ironhide wasn't the type to lie. The stark contrast was making her think her old chief and Fastlane were in cahoots and this whole thing was one titanic set up. What they were setting her up for she had no idea but she could practically _smell_ a set up now.

The Iaconian Chaser fired off one last round at the now-smoldering targets. Her mood was by no means improved but she felt a little less likely to strangle someone on a whim now. Sighing, she holstered the ion pistol and headed for the front doors of the building. Maybe a drive around the city would help more. It was a long shot but maybe she'd find an actual crook to arrest or stumble across those ne'er-do-wells – she wanted to give them a message. Her chief may let them off light but she sure as the Pit wouldn't. She didn't know them and as such didn't trust them, and their high-speed game hadn't won them any points in her logbook.

She stepped out into the sunlight –

"BOMBS AWAY!"

Her helm jerked up in time to see a trio of Avioids swoop low, their path indicating they'd flown from a nearby rooftop. Instinctively her hand reached for her pistol, but she noted they were carrying something peculiar in their talons: buckets. Their optics were not displaying that tell-tale battle glow either, nor were they sporting war paint. So what in the...?

She opened her mouth to warn them – and her vision became a fiasco of color, reds and greens and pinks and oranges and yellows all swirled together. In an instant her mouth closed before any of the attacking color could get in. Chicane blinked twice, trying to puzzle out what in the name of the Primes had just happened. With care and a bit of emphasis she wiped the paint free of her optics, aiming to demand an answer from the beasts, but to her confusion they were laughing so hard they appeared to have trouble staying aloft. One of them, a fiery orange beast, fell to the ground within moments.

Laughter rang out from above and behind her – annoyingly familiar laughter. Her optics narrowed to slits. A growl burbled out.

"Brighten up, cop lady!" howled Hijinks.

Something began to bubble up in the Chaser's chassis. She looked at her paint-lathered frame, blinking. Her optics widened to normal, and something tugged at the corner of her lip-plates. Then she did something she hadn't done in a long, long time: she laughed, laughed freely and without restraint. Primes, that felt so good!

"Alright already! I give! _Ileta! Ileta!_ " She held her hands up in surrender, still laughing.

The laughter from the rooftops turned into cheers and, in one case, a playful, encouraging howl.

* * *

"Mission accomplished, ro-bro!"

"Pit yeah! Up high, everyone!"

The two _a'almvi_ shared high fives with their associates.

"I can't believe you actually got her to laugh by pranking her!" Bluestreak marveled. "She's not the kind of femme to laugh at that sort of thing! How did you know that would work?"

Backdraft and Hijinks shared glances and smiles. Bluestreak gawked further. His mouth dropped open, optics going round.

"You had _no_ idea whether or not that would actually work, did you?"

Their smiles broadened.

"Nope!"

Their laughter rang over the rooftops, Chicane's joining with it.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Full credit to Shy-Light for the inspirational art piece!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot:** ** _Konemq_ _tz_ _'sovallo_**

 _*Special "April Fools" upload. I know it's a bit **after**_ _April Fools when this gets put up_ , _but meh. I'm writing this on top of a bunch of actual papers and a group presentation, guys._ ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ _Gimme some leeway here._

 _*Since this is an established holiday, I'm going to try to avoid explaining it and merely drop as many hints as I can throughout through scenery, dialogue, and behavior and let you guys figure it out._

 _*I'm also going to be writing another story for Tcsovan that takes place during the d'xrv lom, which is included in the ten days of Konemq as the five darkest, longest, coldest nights. After having Light Brooding critiqued, I'll be writing that one as a kind of...response to the critique._

* * *

A sharp north wind rushed through the southern city of Altihex. Wispy clouds of ammonia ice wove a thin blanket poked full of holes through which faint sunlight peered in to the city below. But the mech smiling and dancing to an unsung tune on the walkways barely heeded the sudden chilled winds that brought with it the crisp, somewhat pungent smell of the polar regions. He enjoyed it and the colorful lights that his fellow Altihexians were busy setting up on buildings, but more specifically around the crypts and tombs of past and recent dead. He always made it a point to be there for _K_ _onemq_ , even if he didn't benefit by it the same way other visitors to the city might. It was only right. The guiding lights extended to all, regardless of rank or title. Beautiful, too, not to mention the holiday was a total hoot. Seeing it from the other side wasn't the same as seeing it up close. Even the old fire-breather understood that. There was just something about the twinkling lights that always made them both smile, and the antics some 'bots got up to, online or not, made even the midget crack a grin once in a while.

He laughed, spinning around. Honestly, it was hard to feel down when the cold wind was combated by smiling mechs and femmes, laughter, jokes, sparklings running around in the streets, and colorful lights holding back the long, cold dark. The dance in his step became more pronounced as his burning blue optics shuttered to better hear the city's song. He heard shrieks and laughter incoming, and they opened again in a snap. His smile grew. Two sparklings bounded towards him, their little Triptych lanterns and fresh-plucked Prime-roses in hand. One of the sparklings he thought he recognized, a little racer-style kid with a snazzy spoiler peeking over his shoulders. One of his agents had mentioned a kid matching that description. He nodded approval. Good sense of style, that one, and wonderfully energetic around his friend.

Rather than move out of the way, he merely lifted a trod and let them dart under him to continue on their way. But he caught the one by the little spoiler on his backstrut and lifted him up.

"Whoa there, Indy! Where you off to in such a hurry with those flowers?"

"The Temple!" answered the sparkling excitedly. "Vignette told us Oratorio says Prime-roses were named after Opt'mus, so we're gonna try and show him the way back!"

He held the crystal flowers up, their rounded, tear-tipped pale silver-blue petals glinting and scattering light. Beautiful blooms.

He chuckled. "Well, if ya get lucky an' manage to snag the ol' book-nerd be sure to tell me how it goes, 'kay? I'm an old friend of his."

The sparkling nodded vigorously and promised he would. What was his name though? Chuckling and giving him a sly wink, the mech introduced himself as Hysterus, and then set the sparkling back down. Hysterus smiled, knelt down, and waved him over to his friend. Laughing more, the sparkling raced over to rejoin his friend, a young Seekerlet femme whose armor was a dusky blue-grey. His smile grew. Cute kids, both of 'em. He'd always wanted a kid of his own, but meh – boss had rules about that. Besides, he had the whole city of Altihex to watch over, sparklings included. Just because he couldn't be a genuine Guardian like a regular mech didn't mean he couldn't be the awesome, mysterious uncle.

"Be careful, now!" he waved.

"We will!" they cried back.

Hysterus smiled fondly and went on his way, ambling along at a leisurely pace. He had eternity after all – no need to rush. Pity the kid wouldn't actually remember him. He liked him.

The sound of boosters made him look up at a Seeker busily hanging lanterns from the balcony of a two-story home made his fond smile shift into a slier version of itself. Oh-ho now _that_ was tempting. A furtive glance around him revealed no one was paying him any mind like usual. His once warm chuckle morphed into a mischievous cackle. He slipped into a smaller street adjacent to the dwelling. His metallic frame became fluid, shifting like hard water, until he looked nothing like he had before: rotting violet and tarnished silver held together by ragged, exposed cables. A hanging, dislocated jaw angled up to form a twisted grin.

Time to have some fun.

' _Shifter..._ ' a voice warned.

"Oh, calm down!" he argued. "This'll be a hoot!"

The voice sighed, deadpanning curiosity creeping into his spark.

He argued back that, quite simply, he was quality entertainment. Maybe if he gave him his own comedy show he'd get in less trouble...?

The voice sighed again. A wash of disappointment and yearning came over him that wasn't his.

He sighed dramatically in return, "Why? Why you gotta suck the fun outta everything?"

A flash of defensiveness.

"Oh, yes you are. C'mon, it's _Konemq_! Please? Lemme have some fun! C'mon!"

Nothing. Then, a tickle of acceptance touched his spark. His grin returned full force, and he slunk out of the alley. The passerby and the Seeker above ignored him entirely.

* * *

An arm, slender and stylish, was laid over his shoulder. Smiling at the snickering of his friend behind him, he knocked a hand on the simple metal doors engraved with abstract geometric designs twice for politeness and invited himself in. A little hovering security drone zeroed in on him and subjected him to a scan. When the angry red sweeping beam recognized him, it swapped to blue and shut off. Giving a friendly sounding chitter-beep at him, it turned around and floated off like some weird metal cloud. Chuckling, he strode forward in a bouncing, dancing step.

"So this is where you stayed?" Swivet asked.

"Yep!" he confirmed. "Well, one o' many. And I still stay in 'em on and off, y'know! I don't get enough credits outta this gig to have my own place, and eh – I just like movin' around, y'know?"

"Bit of a nomad, huh?" she smiled. "It all makes sense now! No wonder you like hanging around a Blue Moon!"

His smile grew. Fair enough! But these places had so many good memories! It'd been forever since he'd visited this Home for _Konemq_. Did the little biters still remember him? Welp, there was only one way to find out. Cackling, he hacked into the maintenance and security drones nearest to his position, overrode their sound systems in less time it took him to polish his wheel rims, and gave a relay order to share his message. The one that had just scanned him sung " _Oh kiddies! I'm home!_ " in his voice as it continued down the hallways. There was a weird bounce-off echo as the other drones relayed the message at the same time, but were further away at a ton of different places. He glanced to the side on hearing Swivet giggle at the weird sound effect. Nothing happened for a brief two astroseconds.

Hijinks held three digits up, smirking.

 _Three_

 _Two_

 _One_

He gestured with his thumb down the hall just as ecstatic screams of " _BACKDRAFT!_ " roared in like a mad Draconian, accompanied by the sounds of tiny pedefalls that sounded more like an oncoming avalanche to him. His friend took his cue and disappeared. From around the corners of the two branching hallways ahead came a stampede of rabid cuteness. There were a few familiar faceplates: Jaywalk, Ollie, Heelflip, Hairpin, Frightsmite. But there many others he didn't recognize, and by the time he began to store them into long-term the stampede met him. Some grabbed hold of his legs while their bigger or flier friends latched onto his backstrut or took hold of his neck cables. Swivet was mostly spared but wasn't exactly immune to the cute-valanche. A couple of young femme sparklings zeroed in on her in an instant and hopped around her trods, introducing themselves and spouting off accomplishments or news and gossip.

"Are you really an _a'almvus_?" asked a little Seekerling by his trods.

"Are _you_ really a Seeker?" he countered, grinning.

The look on the kid's face made him double over as well as he could with ten kids on his frame – "identity crisis" was the best description he could come up with. The kid looked himself over quick and insisted he was, in fact, a Seeker. He argued that he never said he _hadn't_ been, leaving him to ponder the intricacies of double negatives.

"So you guys all ready for the first night of _Konemq_ this evening?"

A number of the kids shared puzzled glances, and then looked to him for answers.

"Oh! That's right!" he fake realized. "You guys're new! This is your first _Konemq_!"

One kid, a rugged but still adorable Cervidoid mech whose rounded antlers were still budding out, asked what that was.

"C'mon and me and Swivvy'll tell ya!"

The cute-mob released him from their adorable clutches and darted off to the rec-room, bouncing and asking him and Swivet more questions – namely whether or not she was his femmefriend. Distracted, the little biters never noticed that Hijinks, a typical mainstay at his side, was missing.

Once he got to there, most of the newbies were perched on furniture waiting for him. Good audience, this group. This'd be fun.

* * *

"– so we set up the lights around the city to help 'em stay warm, show 'em around in the dark, and keep the evil Terrorcons away. Neat, huh?"

He leaned back in the seat and kicked a trod up onto the low table, content with his enraptured audience of sparklings. A chorus of "Oooh!'" and "Cool!" was the answer to his story. Kids. Always loved to hear the origin story of the most playful yet spooky holiday on the planet. But one sparkling, an intelligent looking little badger-like femme with big, round blue optics protested that Stopgap had told her Terrorcons were just stories. They weren't _real_! And she'd never seen a spark in the streets before. So why were the lights _really_ put up?

He grinned a sly grin.

"What makes you think Terrorcons aren't real?" he asked while still grinning that sly grin.

Because they _weren't_ , she argued. _She'd_ never read anything about them in the media other than on conspiracy sites or in the folklore databases of the Hall of Records. Not exactly trustworthy places for hard data.

"Well, we don't put the lights up just 'cause they're pretty, Finesse," Swivet argued. "And the sparks _are_ there; you just have to get lucky and have real good vision. _I've_ seen a few. They're just real hard to spot when they're not emerging from the Well. Those ones are _meant_ to be seen. The ones that're let out during _Konemq_ have to stay hidden or else the _evil_ Terrorcons will _get_ them!" she finished, lunging at a little grounder femme and earning a squeak when she grabbed her, the squeak turning to laughter on her gentle tickling of her chassis.

On one giggle, the lights suddenly flickered and died. The little femme's laughter ceased in an instant. Gasps and nervous whimpers escaped some of the kids. The lights hanging off the eaves outside and those of 'bots traveling around in the budding dark cast an eerie glow into the rec-room, and the little red beam of a maintenance drone scuttling by suddenly seemed a lot more sinister to him. But the little badger femme didn't budge at any of that. She was probably assuming it was just a power surge. His sly grin only grew when a groaning, gurgling moan echoed in the hallway, and the sound of shuffling, dragging pedes growing nearer and nearer. All _that_ did was make them even more spooked. Even Swivet was acting nervous now, holding some of the kids close. His carefree smile faltered. Maybe Hijinks was overdoing it _just_ a bit. Before he could comm. him to ask him to lay off a bit, the gurgling and shuffling pedes cut off. He thought he'd heard the tell-tale sound of a warp, too...

A bright flash engulfed the room and made his optics fritz. The kids weren't a fan of the flash, yelping an squeaking at its sudden appearance. He smiled. _There_ he was! But when the glare and the stars in his optics fixed, Hijinks was nowhere to be seen in the dark. The little maintenance drone's beam swept around at somewhere around his optic level, even, providing some illumination – but no Hijinks in the group.

A gurgling groan came from above. Helms and optics of many colors jerked up. Frightened cries echoed in the dark. He smiled, holding back a laugh.

Clinging to the ceiling was a familiar Canipid form, but it now looked rotten and ragged, and the formerly pale bronze, red, and turquoise was now replaced with gunmetal grey and violet. One optic was missing. Gurgling, the creature detached from the ceiling and dropped onto the table. It transformed in a slow, sluggish grinding of gears and metal to reveal a similarly rotten mech, the jaw hanging lopsided by only a few wires.

It lurched forward.

The kids lost it.

"TERRORCON!" they screamed.

"THEY'RE _REAL?!_ " shrieked the doubting badger femme.

"GROAWR-URRGH!" roared the Terrorcon.

Terrified screams filled the rec-room when the Terrorcon lunged for the badger femme, grabbing her and bringing her close. The other sparklings got as far away as possible from the creature – some even outright bailed from the room as he watched. The hanging jaw opened to bite into the living mesh. Finesse screamed, struggling frantically. But it never bit her or tried to slice her open or anything. It just stood there holding her, grinning a lopsided grin at the kid in its grasp holding her hands over her helm, still screaming. It cast a glance at him and winked. Then it laughed, "Gotcha!"

The screaming stopped as if it were a suddenly paused recording. The hands were lowered. Finesse looked up.

The frame of the "Terrorcon" fizzled and popped and shimmered like a heat mirage until Hijinks stood in its place, grinning from audial to audial and temporarily painted somber grey and violet to work with the hologram projector.

"The look on you guys' faceplates!" he howled in his hysterical, contagious laugh, "I actually had Swivet going for a klik there! Even you, brother!"

"HIJINKS!" Swivet snapped in wrathful relief. "You couldn't have, oh, I dunno, _warned me_ you were going to be pulling a prank like that?! Bad dog! Very bad dog!"

"But where's the fun in that?" he argued with a casual shrug.

He set the kid back down onto the table. She had a smug little smirk on her faceplates now. Well, Backdraft mused, maybe she'd earned it. But she probably wouldn't go dismissing the idea of Terrorcons quite so easily after that jump scare, so mission accomplished he supposed.

"You outdid yourself, ro-bro," he applauded. "The lights going out was a nice final touch to the plan."

But Hijinks's grin faltered at that. He said he thought the lights had been _his_ doing. Hacking wasn't quite his strong suit, and hacking an entire power grid was a little different than hacking security or maintenance drones or the occasional security camera. The encryption was _way_ different.

His smile faltered too. "Swivet?" he asked.

She shook her helm. Hadn't been her. And it couldn't have been any of the kids. It couldn't have been the owner or the staff either, could it? They would have had to have been complicit in the scheme, like she'd been – even if she hadn't been told glyph-for-glyph what the prank was, she said, sounding a little miffed. She'd just been told the verbal set-up for it. But that still left the question of who'd messed with the lights in tandem with the prank. It had to have been someone who'd known about it, right? Right? There was no way in the Pit she was believing that was _just_ coincidence. The timing was too pat.

He agreed.

"Playful spark maybe?" Hijinks suggested. "Sweetspice always told me they could mess with power systems. I mean, I didn't see one but – chance, right?"

"Maybe."

Swivet didn't sound totally convinced.

"What's going on in here? I heard screaming!"

Stopgap herself appeared in the doorway, a big, somewhat rotund femme with powerful limbs. She took one look at him and Hijinks and pieced the puzzle together.

"You!" she cried. "Oh, I shoulda known!"

Her field lit up like a forge fire. She was ~ _agitated_ ~ and if she got in trouble for smacking the ~ _Shifter's_ ~ little ~ _tricksters_ ~ for scaring a bunch of new Foundlings then so be it. Making good on her threat, she stomped over, grabbed him and Hijinks, smacked them both upside the helm, grabbed him and his friend by the audials and began to drag them out. Well over half the kiddos gave disappointed noises while a few of them laughed alongside Swivet at how calmly they took the attack and the audial-dragging. When they reached the door, Stopgap slung them forward. Swivet joined them, and the instant she did the doors slammed in their faceplates.

"That went pretty well, huh?" the biker mech surmised, smiling.

Swivet and Hijinks burst into laughter.

* * *

Snickering, a bland form slunk out of the Home through a back entrance into the play-field. No one gave him a second glance, no one greeted him – but that was the price he had to pay for visits. Meh. It came with some upsides. Stifling his snickers, he slipped back into the flow of the outside world seamlessly. The sun had set and the cold wind was blowing. Some of the early arrivals sang to him in greeting before whirling away towards the lights on the buildings and the ones bobbing on handles in the streets. One of them whirled up to him, twirled around a bland arm that shifted to another form in its presence, and flew off, leaving a faint trail of starlight in its wake. He quickly shifted it back. Little devil he cursed humorously to himself, flinging a rude gesture at it.

Now, where to next...?

* * *

 **Author's Note: You guys are spot on in noting the similarities to Dia de los Muertos, but there's also similarities to the Indian holiday of Diwali, the Festival of Lights. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: Dog-Dared  
**

* _If you thought Backdraft was crazy before now, this might just prove it. Or, at the least, it proves he's far, **far** more likely to do something stupid and dangerous while drunk. x'D _

_Like with his poetry section, I'll be trying out different tactics of prose writing in this one. Such as going first person for Backdraft. Now, people will often advise not to do this, but apparently if you do it the right way it can be a great thing, allowing the reader direct access to their heads, their thought processes and personal view of the world. Also, expect some fourth wall breaks with this one. xD Trust me, you'll be able to tell when.  
_

* * *

For those of you who aren't fliers and want nothin' to do with bein' in the air, the manouver called _vrnel'xcior_ is defined as "the re-arranging of any flight-capable frame's wings to cant down at an extreme angle, thus allowing for minimal drag in a sudden, high speed, ninety degree dive." It basically translates to "wing knife."Most often you see it with Seekers, mainly Vosian ones if you wanna get all technical, but lots of Avioids can do it scary good too when they spot a glitch-mouse on the ground. I've seen 'em do it. The whole point of it now is to close distance between a target, or show off to a pretty lady or cute mech. Durin' the War it was used to avoid heat-seeking missiles. The second part of the manouver, _ojen lok_ , is when the wings "expand back out and lock in place to create more area for wind pass over, increasing drag rapidly and creating intense gravitational forces." Apparently if not timed right, or done wrong, it can cause some pretty nasty injuries, like snapped frills or dislocated wings. There're even a few reports of rookie fliers' wings comin' clean off.

(Don't worry. They lived.)

Now, try as I might to convince myself that I can fly, I'm not a flier. Got no wings. Closest a grounder like me can get to flying is hitching rides. Or jumping from buildings. And I've done both. Problem is, much as I like the weightlessness, I still gotta obey gravity.

But I got creative.

And over-energized.

And now I'm magnetized to the underside of a star-ship, wind tearing at my armor and thrusters roarin' in my audials as it climbs higher and higher.

I guess I better back up an' explain...

This whole idea started a few joors ago. At the Academy.

* * *

I'm not much of a genius. Or a student. I admit it. I tried, I really did. It didn't work out. Couldn't stay still long enough. I can't focus unless I'm moving. So, the streets became my teachers. And my boss taught, too; can't forget him – he's sensitive, doesn't like not being acknowledged. Funny right – a Shifter who can't stand being looked over? But I like to visit the students, see how they're doing, give 'em a little break from their studying by dropping in...prank their professors by stealing all the work and magnetizing it to the ceiling of a room on the other side of the Academy. Y'know. Simple stuff. My _cetver'ko_ suppliers are there anyways, some chemistry student go-getters, so it's a win-win. They get some laughs and I get some weak high grade for just a few creds.

I hadn't visited for a while. But with Swivet and her bro both attending (she's studying xeno-architecture and he's into physics) I'd made the visits more of a priority. She gave me incentive.

(And no, before anyone asks about the Combiner in the room: she's _not_ my femmefriend. She's just a femme who _happens_ to my friend. If it goes further than that, I'll let ya know.)

Where was I? Oh, right.

Durin' _hialved_ – summer basically – it can get pretty hot in my home city, so there's always way more activity everywhere in Altihex after dark, the Academy included. I'm not talking illicit stuff. Just... _activity._ Movement. Sound. Transfer students are always so wowed at how it looks like a rave party 'cause all the students and even teachers've got running lights. Tonight there might as well have been a rave party. Everyone was out in the evening air walking, or flying, or sitting beneath patios studying or chatting – or both. Mecha-moths flittered around the arched solar lamps, a couple of sparklings trying to catch them while their busy student Guardians looked up on them from their work. A Chimeran femme lay near them. Music came from several 'bots' speakers. Music marks from the look of 'em. Nice beats.

Anywho, I strolled through the open quad, the eastern one, grinnin' and wavin' at the students as I went. A femme professor wearing a single-optic visor gave me a "look" from her seat beneath a pavilion that I returned with an innocent smile, holding my hands up.

"Chill, teach," I told her. "I got ya last time. I don't do doubles."

My suppliers always have a little stand set up on nights like this in the corner of the western quad, so that's where I headed. Pedefalls behind me made me turn. Swivet's brother, Hinge, slowed from a jog to match me stride for stride. For a half-way stiff academic, I liked the mech. We'd gotten off to a bit of a bumpy start, but he'd come around in the end. His wings canted up and down in greeting. An arm set down over my pauldrons. He was easily a helm taller than me, a strange mixture of Seeker and grounder, streamlined in his upper body yet block-y around the legs and trods. Older, too.

"Here to bug another professor, flame-brain?"

I reached up and shared a fist-bump with the aero-engine's hand that hung over my pauldron.

"Nah, not tonight," I admitted. "Just here to visit an' grab some _cetver'ko_ from some pals o' mine. Unless somethin' happens."

Hinge laughed at me, "Mech, wherever you go, _something_ happens. You may not be the cause, but you're always somehow involved."

I shrugged, grinning. Was it _my_ fault, I asked him in mock offense, that the the big guy insisted I never be bored?

He released me but stayed by my side. We strolled under a walkway into the upper level of the Academy where two look-alike Draculians were hanging on its underside edge by their trods, conversing with a pudgy, nerdy-looking mini-con sitting on the edge of the walkway busily writing into a datapad. Their helms bobbed to the music in the eastern quad in an adorable imitation of head-banging all while talking to the mini-con up above. Those two were new, Hinge told me – arrivals from a Draculian colony three hundred klicks to the north, near Vos. Real smart, but reclusive, and scheduling classes for them wasn't straightforward. Smiling, I waved up at them, and they waved back, smiling through their serrated denta. We left them to return to their conversation with the mini-con above them.

"What marks are they goin' for?" I wondered.

"Language," Hinge grinned. "Epilogue's plannin' to be a translator, his twin Etch's set on being a hardcore linguist to help archeologists."

"Nice!"

The western quad was no less lively. Over in the corner, like always, was a trio of students at a stand they'd made themselves. They spotted me and waved me down. The lead femme, a rowdy chemistry mentor named Electrabyte, reached out her hands to touch palms with us both. Her field tingled through the touch. Her friends, Stash and Jackpot, were students under her mentor-ship. Trouble students at one point, but once she'd given them a chance to work their high grade magic legally, they'd thrived. If you had a post-exam party you wanted, or any party really, _these_ were the guys you wanted doing the drinks. _Cetver'ko, Liq'lorya, bevum_ _nis_ – you name a funky drink, they can make it, _and_ make it _better_.

(I will not hesitate to say, under oath, that these three are closet followers of Alchemist. They're _that_ good at this scrap – and they're _students_! Well, two students and a student mentor. Same difference.)

Stash rightly guessed I was there for my usual refill. They made my usual two cubes there on the stand for me to see. They passed them to me and I paid the usual ten credits. Hinge, grinning, purchased one cube of _hirln'rof_ – stronger stuff made from C-class, dissolved lithium, and powered beryllium. I'll admit, that struck me as a little weird. Academics – yes, even Altihexian ones – aren't usually so keen on strong concoctions since they can impair cognitive functions. Hinge was more laid back than most, but the highest I'd ever seen him go since knowing the mech was D-class – same stuff as in _cetver'ko_.

He noticed my glance and explained himself with a wink, "Friend of mine just got his professional's mark earlier in the deca-cycle. We're havin' a bash at his place, and everyone's bringin' drinks. Wanna come?"

Not one to turn down an invite to a party, I accepted. Laughing, his arm came down around me again.

"C'mon, then! Lemme give you a lift."

He transformed to hover above me a strange mix of hover-car, rotor-top cockpit, and Seeker. I transformed, and he lowered down to latch me to his underside. Powerful turbines on his wings roared to life. Wind whistled as he spiraled up.

"Don't do anything stupid!" Electrabyte teased from three hundred feet below.

I laughed.

(You know it's the end of days when Hinge knows me better than my barista.)

Hinge flew me over to the professional's mark housing just beyond the Academy. Nice places, bigger than the on-site housing for lower-ranking students, but not because of any bias. There were just fewer active professional's marks than the lower marks usually, so – roomier rooms. One particular tower was lit up like it was still _Konemq_ , and I could hear music coming from it, and laughter, and hoots and hollers. A trio was out on a second-story balcony: a delicate Seeker mech with a thorny appearance to his frame, a racer-type grounder, and a rad mini-con hare-former with spiral-y Hindian horns. The trio waved my friend down. Hinge's wings and tail angled to slow him down, and he spiraled towards the tower.

"Mind if I drop ya on the roof? Balcony's too tight."

"No prob! I can make the jump."

He did just that, unlatching me a few paces above the roof. Hinge flew down the open Seeker exit in the roof. He probably expected me to follow him, but I decided to stroll to the edge of the roof and take the plunge straight onto the balcony. I gave them fair warning, they moved to give me some space, and I dropped. Simple as that. Three stories down I grabbed the balcony railing and hauled myself up – in the process getting a good look inside the room. Full set up, three more gals, and two more guys. And, from the looks of it, a full mini-bar of rainbow hues that me and Hinge could add to.

The mini-con offered me a fist and his two friends greeted me in the typical way: a good old fashioned high-five.

"Hinge never said he was bringin' a guest with 'im," noted the Seeker. "Especially not a celebrity."

"I'm more of a tag along, really," I clarified. "And I'm only a celebrity if you happen to be in law enforcement somehow."

Turned out, he was a fellow nerd like Hinge. Meteorologist apparently. His name: Twister. He was hoping to get the sick job of flying into ammonia storms and rust storms as, of all things, a rescue worker, but he was still in the process of undergoing modification so he didn't fall to pieces in those conditions. Those things could get intense – exactly why rescuers were needed.

"So who's the party for?"

"Xeric," said the mini-con. "Got his mark in xeno-ecology. The party's actually because he got accepted onto the _Data Junkie's_ crew. They leave tomorrow for an expedition to MG9705. Three groons."

(Come on, Hinge. Seriously? You couldn't tell me the _real_ reason? You're better than that.)

I grinned regardless. I told them that, hey, if the guy was off into the void tomorrow, we better make sure his last night planet-side was...memorable, I finished, winking.

"Well, then it's a good thing I brought an _a'almvus_ , huh?"

Hinge was there in the door, beckoning us in, and soon introduced me to the mech of the hour: Xeric. A wiry yet powerfully built Lupioid mech colored sandy beige and maroon gifted with the coolest case of heterochromia I've ever seen. One optic was a bright blue, and the other was a pale lavender. He held a hand out to touch one palm with me, bowing; his field felt about as parched as he looked. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and raspy, like a little rust devil was caught in his vocalizer. He professed himself "pleased to meet me." I bowed back and congratulated him on his mark.

"Told him all about you," Hinge smiled.

"Obviously you rose-picked, then," I joked back, cuffing him.

"Not at all! Told him about your little games with that cop, Chicane, and he couldn't stop laughing."

"He speaks true. Your antics are amusing, and your amiable relation with the law – admirable. My city would do well to have an _a'lmvus_. Our officers are too, too _diamj_. Too stiff."

I brushed the compliments aside, embarrassed but pleased. Vizanthans were pleasant people, no question there – great company – but on the whole they tended to be a little uptight. Not as uptight as Praxians or Iaconians, but still uptight. That this was one happy to meet me and willing to throw a bash was...different. I liked it.

"Why don't you become one? He's always happy to take one more."

He said he'd consider it.

* * *

The bash started out innocent enough. Jokes, talk about Xeric's academic life, his classmates, what I did for a living, the crew he was joinin' up with. Topics shifted around constantly. The mini-bar looked a less stocked after two joors, and everyone's behavior and speech got way less filtered. But hey, that happens when you get hammered, right? Barriers break down. That's not always a bad thing. You can learn a lot about 'bots that way. Twister revealed he'd been rescued by the Grey Ghost as a newbuilt out near Tyger Pax. One of the girls, Medley, a CI in training, was in charge of an anti-government site to help Polyhex revolt, and a decent hacker. Verve had a fear of going too fast but wasn't afraid of getting in trouble over it. Cavort, the tiny Harian, had apparently been exiled, but not even four cubes of _k'jr'gyen_ got his glossa to loosen up. Interesting stuff.

Near the end of the two joor mark we got to talking about the craziest thing any of us had ever done, and I gotta say – Xeric surprised me.

"You did what now?!" I demanded.

"Left my professors gifts of glitter bombs." he repeated with a grin. "They're still removing the sulfur crystal buds out from between their plating. That was three cycles ago."

The entire group roared, two of the girls falling back in hysterical laughter. The tiny Harian raised his half-empty glass of _Liq'lorya_ in cheers. To the rebel Vizanthan! he cried, earning a round of cheering. For a Vizanthan, not a bad prank, though the sulfur might've been over the top in my opinion. Magnetized silver and copper shreddings might've been better – harder to get off and less smelly. Xeric shrugged back, smiling and admitting the prank could've been better prepped, but he was a mere novice in the art. That, and he'd had easier access to the chemistry labs than the metallurgy stores.

Hinge was one of those relaxed drunks, able to take the high grade better than most. Didn't make him immune though. He drained the rest of his bright pink _nk'rae_. His voice, when he spoke, was slower and slurred.

"You want prank tips, Xeric, just ask flame-brain. You should see the stuff he does on _Konemq_. It's wild!"

"Such as?"

"Having a pal o' mine make himself up as a Terrorcon, get a hologram projector, and play the part in a Founding Home."

"I heard about that!" Twister admitted. "Stopgap was _maaad!_ "

"Eh, not the worst reaction I've ever had," I said, taking another sip of my (third) cube of _cetver'ko_. "Least she didn't call the cops on my aft. Paid her back by fixing a few things around the Home."

"So what _is_ the craziest thing you've done?" Verve, a pretty, long-faced speed flier femme, asked me.

I refused to comment.

The group whined.

"Lemme put it this way: I'm drunk – go ahead an' tempt me."

Let's just say the first few requests were anything but special. Jump off the balcony, ask out a professor, goad the cops – that sort of amateur-type thing. I declined them since I'd already them at some point in my "career." As options dwindled, they got more creative. The Harian proved to be the wild drunk. Some creative brainstorming between him and the group resulted in the dare of: break into the _Data Junkie_. Darknet, the final femme in the group, and a student studying encryption, was the evil genius behind that one. She hadn't said much of anything up till that point; she was the kind of 'bot, like my boss, who could fade into the background without really trying. When she said those words, everyone's attention snapped to her like she'd announced she'd been made a Prime just then.

"Not 'cause I want to get you in trouble," Darknet clarified shyly with a devilish smirk, "but I think giving the crew a surprise'd be funny, yeah?"

I agreed.

"Surprise party raid!" I hollered.

I went for the balcony and jumped off (to the sound of over-energized cheering) to hit the ground in style, switch to vehicle form, and race off, leaving the others to catch up.

* * *

There's an assumption out there that I don't know fear – that _a'almvi_ don't know fear. That's not true. We do know fear, probably know it better than anyone else in the world. I've learned to master fear just like every other Shifter Follower. That's why Draconians call us _vdel'tqtyais_ – "fear tamers." We don't let fear consume us 'cause fear's part of life. We "tame" it. We manage it.

But that doesn't mean we can't feel fear. We can. And I definitely was feelin' it.

Breaking in had gone without a hitch. Everyone was welcomed onto the ship with open arms, Xeric was installed, but I'd snuck back outside to get a look at the thrusters. Awesome things. I hadn't seen the party leave, but they must have – because the ship's engine roared up, taking the ship – and me – with it. I probably should've jumped off the moment I heard them, but what can I say? Fear made my inner thrill junkie go wild. So I hung on. Up. Up. Up. Thing is, at this height, if I let go, I wind up in a clinic for a freakishly long time at the best, a crypt at the worst. Hijinks wasn't there to warp up and save me, and Verve and Twister weren't there to help. I tried comm'ing them, but the sound of the thrusters probably meant too much exterior static.

I let the fear take over.

I let go.

The ship roared on, and I fell.

The Altihexian star-ship docks were below. There was a flash below, bright turquoise, and I saw a lean canine form appear in time to touch one hand to me. Then the flash swallowed us both. The docks were suddenly all around me, but I only appreciated it for about two astroseconds. The stored speed from the fall meant I hit the ground as fast as if I'd hit the ground from way up above.

(Yeah. I know basic physics. I wasn't at terminal velocity, but letting myself fall for as long as I had meant the momentum I'd stored up didn't go away when Hijinks warped me to ground level.)

I blacked out. So did he, I think.

* * *

I woke up almost ten breems later. I hurt like the Pit, and I was on a medical berth, not the streets. I was thankful for the dimmed lighting. I wasn't quite so thankful for the snout that was in my face, whining and licking me. Okay, technically I was happy to see him. Just not thrilled about him licking me. I love my ro-bro, and I know licking when it comes to Preds isn't a sign of him wanting to bond with me – but there're limits.

"Ew! Ew! Bro! Quit it! Ew!"

Hijinks pulled back, fore-paws returning to the ground. He swapped out of beast mode to lean over; mech looked about beat up as I felt. Field tingling and optics wide and spooked, he demanded to know "what in the name of the First Beast I'd been thinking!?"

I knew I'd done something real stupid if Hijinks was this freaked out. This was a mech who could play a Terrorcon on the nasal and hunt down virus-ridden rust hounds to keep the city safe. I groaned. Emotional pain on top of feeling like a Combiner had stomped all over me. Screw having a hang-over. I'd trade having a hang-over for what I felt any cycle.

"I went to a party, I got drunk," I said. "Sue me."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yep. Backdraft + lots of weak high grade = epic stupidity.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Nature of the Beast**

 **One-Shot: The New Girl in Town  
**

* * *

It was strange, she thought as she drove her beat in the main city center, that she was now searching for two miscreants out of friendly concern for their welfare than out of annoyance and an adherence to her duty as a law officer. Had that thought crossed her mind in Iacon she would have thought her processor was malfunctioning, but now – now she didn't see it as so very peculiar. Altihex was not Iacon. Any standards of behavior or thought from her old city had to be properly adjusted. In Iacon and in her sister city, the _a'almvi_ Skylark and Punchline were, though entertaining in her antics, considered to be a bit of a repetitive nuisance to the law. Here in Altihex, the _a'almvi_ were seen as, as best she could guess from all the evidence she had gathered, wayward sparklings who just _happened_ to get involved with the law through their playfulness, and the law here understood that. " _A'almvus_ " and "criminal" were not quite so interchangeable as she had once assumed. Obnoxious some cycles, certainly – some of their antics required an inordinate amount of patience to handle, but they were not, when looked at through the scope of the Shifter's doctrine, criminal acts. Did one arrest a child for playing?

She was thoroughly convinced (had been for a while now if she was honest with herself) that she had been sent to Altihex for a reason that went beyond the law and her job. Ironhide hadn't sent her solely as a transfer to back up the second precinct. Altihex didn't need a small army of law officers the same way Iacon, Kaon or Praxus did. It had taken a few deca-cycles to figure it out, but she had begun to notice a code of standards unique to the city and its law enforcement. Give pleasant, get pleasant. Give respect, get respect. Judging by the fact there were only six precincts for the sprawling southern city, it apparently worked wonders. The worst she had seen to date on this transfer had been some outsiders to the city heckling some of the Predacon merchants in the emporium center, and they had been dealt with swiftly and, dare she say it, severely. Bigotry, ignorance, was not tolerated here. That had been made abundantly clear. She suspected it was because of that policy (and the large Predacon presence in the city) that most crime here never managed to get beyond relatively minor things such as drug infractions or speeding – or over-energized _a'almvi_ doing something amazingly stupid that deca-cycle.

 _HOOOONK!_

She swerved to the side and hit her brakes hard to avoid a sideways collision with a heavy debris hauler. The hauler, rather than go on, pulled to the side and drew up.

"You alright there, sister?" the deep female voice wondered.

"Fine," she gasped. "I'm fine. Just...I got distracted. Thinking."

The giant femme chuckled, "Just try to pay more attention next time, eh? Wandering thoughts mean a wandering wheel."

"Actually, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, sister. What'd ya need?"

"You seen either _a'almvi_ anywhere rec –"

"WHOO-HOO!"

She looked up in time to see a flame-accented fiery orange and red mech falling from the top of the spire above her and grab hold of a Draconian flying by. The beast screamed in surprise and bucked like an Equinine and then rolled, the mech's grip slipping at the sudden movement and sending him tumbling towards the ground again. He hit ground about a quarter of a klick down the road. He lay there as if unconscious, but soon his arms flung up and he issued another elated cry of "YEAH-HA! WHOO!"

She sighed, though it came out more as a groan, "Never mind..."

Laughing uproariously, the other femme honked once and pulled back onto the main road to continue on her route.

Restraining the urge to sigh again, she made her way over to the mech on the ground in a quick run. He made to rise on his own, the stubborn, silly idiot, getting onto his knees to push himself up and revealing a few minor dings on his arm and abdomen. She hunched and offered her hand. His helm jerked up to reveal the ever beaming, ever burning reptilian optics and a broad smile. He took the hand and rose with it. Strange, she thought, that she'd never really recognized that smile until now – it never really changed, but her perception of it had. At one point she had seen it as a rebellious smirk, taunting her, but that was a far cry from what she saw now. It was a young, innocent but wise, ever excited smile, finding enjoyment in anything from jumping from buildings to caring for a sparkling as an odd job. She sorely wished she could smile like that more often, but as a cop she felt she didn't have that luxury. She didn't know if she even _could._ Knowing the darker undercarriage of society robbed that sort of thing from you. But he had gotten her to laugh before, truly laugh. Maybe there was hope.

"You alright?" she demanded. "You need me to get you to a medic?"

He smiled as he put a hand over his chassis, "Awww. You do care. I knew you did."

"No, seriously. Do you need a medic? You're hurt."

He laughed her suggestion off as if it were a good joke. It was just a few dings and scratches, he insisted. He'd suffered worse. He'd buff them out later. He had to be presentable after all, he said through a wink.

Her helm tilted to one side as a brow ridge arced, "Presentable for what? A job?"

He winked again through that smile, "You could say that..."

Whooping in delight, he transformed, bucked the front of his vehicle form, and joined the flow of traffic. Her instinct was to chase after him and demand further clarification about that statement, but she reigned that ingrained impulse in with an effort. He wasn't a crook, he wasn't a crook, he wasn't a crook she repeated to that impulse. She _should_ be concerned about his welfare considering that Backdraft appeared to have little to no concept of personal safety. Strange indeed that someone like that could be so surprisingly level-helmed in any array of situations tossed his way, and humorous enough to joke about accidents and slip-ups afterwards. Problems slid off him like ice melt.

But that smile, she realized, while typically innocent and amiable, had been accompanied by a set of mischievously glittering optics. That, she decided, was a red flag. She'd seen that glitter a few times now, and it always spelled out one thing: Backdraft had "merry mischief" on his processor.

And she'd lost him to the flow of traffic.

Great.

"I wonder if chief will let me put a tracker beacon on him...?" she mumbled.

* * *

"You ready, bro?"

"Always."

"Sh! Here she comes."

The black and blue femme with her impressive Iaconian helm crest and handful of teal accents came down the corridor of the Altihexian Council Hall in a slow, nervous walk, her teal optics darting around as if worried someone might jump her. Her gaze never strayed up though, and so never fell on him or his friend, concealed on a supporting beam of metal that arced across the corridor to hold its simple vaulted roof up.

Hijinks waggled his haunches in anticipation as she passed nearer. He reached a hand over and forced his rump down. Not yet, he whispered.

She passed underneath.

Grinning, he motioned to his friend.

The Canipid leapt from the rafters with a yip, limbs splayed out like he was about to belly flop into a lake. The femme looked up just in time to fall beneath him, giving a squeak of surprise that probably could've been a scream but didn't quite make it out. She shrieked and squirmed as Hijinks happily licked her faceplates, shoving her hands towards him.

"Help!" she shrieked. "Help! Help me! Get it off! It's trying to eat me!"

He laughed hysterically at the sight, hands moving from their posts on the beam to his side. He realized his mistake one klik too late, and yelped when he tumbled off. The femme yelped as he hit the ground near her.

"What in the name of –" cried a familiar voice. "BOYS! What did I tell you about giving trouble to guests?"

He pushed himself off the floor, "We weren't giving trouble! We were just sayin' hi like the boss told us to!"

Screwloose arched a brow ridge as he strode up to the mess, "By throwing a Canipid at a Polyhexian?"

"Um," his optics darted over to the femme and Hijinks and then back to the Altihexian Councilor, "Maybe?"

"Get it off!" the femme shrieked again.

Sighing, Screwloose placed two digits over his nasal and shook his helm. Giving a quick, sharp whistle out of his neck vents, he then clicked his vocalizer and pointed to the ground beside the femme. Hijinks gave the femme one last lick and removed himself to sit in exactly the spot indicated, tail wagging still. The femme's optics dared to open then.

He knelt and offered a hand, "Sorry about them, Cyberwarp. They're good kids, I promise. They weren't trying to scare you."

The look she gave him was less than convinced, but she let Screwloose help her back up anyway. She eyed them in distrust.

"You don't have _a'almvi_ in Polyhex, do you?" guessed the Councilor.

Her look changed in an instant. She stared at them, "You're _a'almvi?_ "

He bowed, "Two of many! And busy!"

"Busy?"

Transforming, he bucked his front end and raced off back down the hall with a cry of "Nice to meet you!" Hijinks yipped back the same and bounded after him.

"Not bad for our first foray into politics!" he said to his friend. "Think we may have gotten to her?"

Hijinks barked over short-band that there was always the chance. But they should probably do a little more homework next time. Causing an inter-city incident with Polyhex wasn't high on his Well-list.

* * *

 **Just a little shortie with Chicane getting a little more open minded and relaxed and the boys being silly doofs. x3**


End file.
